


Romance is Cheesy

by mousaerato



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blatant Disrespect to Restaurant Staff, First Dates, Jazz Music, M/M, Rats, Underage Drinking, graphic descriptions of cheese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21888085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousaerato/pseuds/mousaerato
Summary: First dates tend to be a little over the top.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61
Collections: Shuake SS Gift Exchange 2019





	Romance is Cheesy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lia404](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lia404/gifts).



> I participated in the 2019 Shuake Secret Santa Exchange, and one of the prompts I got was "anything with rats." I decided to embrace the silliness of it, so enjoy this rattling fic.

A terse, almost impatient voice spoke. “Ren.”

“Hm?” The thief looked up, the trance of the ambient classical music broken by the word.

“This is…not the ‘first real date’ I expected.”

A titter of a laugh was Akechi Goro’s response. “What? Too fancy?”

The locale _was_ glitzy: a whole restaurant reserved for just the two of them, chandeliers glowing with romantic light, pristine windows showcasing a gorgeous ocean, comfortable yet fashionable chairs, and fine cutlery. Amamiya Ren knew his sweetheart appreciated the finer things in life with the way he responded to the 78,000-yen silver bracelet, and that he had a keen sense of justice and timing. This venue was _perfect,_ thought Ren – there was no way Goro wouldn’t appreciate it.

“We’re _rats._ ”

One side effect of “booking” The Ark of the Elite’s Restaurant was that the “owner” of the place had a rather low view of them. Shido Masayoshi’s cognitive warping lingered a little longer and with greater force than first anticipated; the glare of his statues were no longer needed to effect this shift. With Goro’s betrayal of his former “captain,” the sinister politician’s gaze made him small, too.

Still, the restaurant _was_ special. Sure, it took a few rounds of removing aggressive shadows and intimidating the bartender before Shido’s magic turned them, but what other place could boast a romantic atmosphere _and_ the benefit of spiting a man who tried to ruin your lives by being in it? There was no better option anywhere in Tokyo. (Plus, most other haute-cuisine establishments had a waitlist for months. _This_ place accepted walk-ins.)

“I prefer ‘gentlemen thieves,’” Ren squeaked.

“We’re not even sitting on the chairs!” A laugh threatened to break through Goro’s small, reedy voice. The absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on him.

“Sit in the chair then,” Ren retorted. “It might feel better on your fee—paws. Paws?”

Goro choked with laughter; Ren smiled back. Playing along, Goro hopped from the table to the edge of the chair’s back. “I _should_ take advantage of all the accoutrements, shouldn’t I?”

“Definitely, since the place is understaffed. Something about the staff being dead or terrified.” _Well, melted away back into the collective unconsciousness save for one bartender who was too afraid to deny them service after the massacre._

“What poor service,” Goro teased with a faux-frustrated sigh. “And _this_ was your idea of a great date?”

“I’d like to see you do better,” he replied cheekily.

The two of them made their way to the menu in front of an unused seat, with Ren scurrying to it and Goro making a dramatic leap from the chair. Their small eyes perused the large, gilded text, all without listed costs – if you had to worry about the price, you didn’t belong here. Thankfully, Ren had arranged for this date to be _gratis._

Ren made a meager attempt at pronouncing the foreign words. The menu had no guiding katakana for its more exotic dishes; their normal clientele were presumably polyglots, raised in privilege to assume the upper echelons of global power and influence.

“Pâte de foie gras?” Ren and Goro both cringed at the halting pronunciation. Neither knew _exactly_ what the words literally meant, but both of them knew Joker’s attempt at reading would kill any respectable French speaker. Goro flinched at the sound and made haste to fill the air with a more pleasant reading.

“Bluefin tuna with _beluga caviar,”_ Goro marveled as he read the list. “That sounds really good…”

“How about this,” Ren pointed out with a small claw. “White truffle pasta.”

“ _Wow.”_

“Hm?” Obviously, Ren’s date knew more about cuisine than he did.

“Piedmont white truffles are a delicacy. Someone in Taiwan bought a two kilogram truffle for almost seven million yen.”

“Seven… _million?_ ” For a _fungus?_ To Ren, that wasn’t for quality – that was a purchase for bragging rights.

“They say it’s really that good.”

Ren smiled at Goro’s enthusiasm. “So you want that one?”

“Maybe…oh! Cheese plate!”

Of all the things his mousy date would choose, it was the _cheese plate._ Ren’s glare bored holes into Goro’s mask and eyes. “ _Really?_ You were just complaining we were _rats_.”

“It’s not because we’re mice,” countered Goro as he tapped at the glossy menu. “These cheeses are really hard to get!” He urged Ren closer with a paw. “See? Beaufort d’éte, Brie, époisses—”

Ren quirked an eyebrow. “Have…you been studying French?”

Goro paused before he answered. “ _May-be,”_ he lilted. “But these are on the menu. There’s a Spanish cheese here too called ‘Cabrales,’ and Raclette…I think that one is Swiss. There’s Chimay…and, oh, it says there’s crackers and fig spread and Iberian ham with this.”

Goro was absolutely _enthralled;_ Ren thought it was sweet. “So the cheese plate, then?”

“Now for the drink.” Goro bit at the corner of the menu and travailed to flip it over. “I think the beverages are on this side…”

“Looks like it’s all beer and wines.”

“So? You’ve never tried any, Ren?”

“I’m underage.” Of all the crimes and blasphemies he had committed, Ren never considered trying booze. “What -- have you?”

“Just a sip from time to time,” Goro confessed. “A little _sake,_ maybe a beer.”

“Wow,” Ren deadpanned teasingly with a gasp, “What will your adoring fans think?”

Squeaky giggles escaped from Goro’s mouth. He smiled, bright and wide, teasing, “Oh no, the _alcohol_ will be the end of my reputation! All my good deeds and careful decisions, _ruined_.” He was glad he didn’t have to lie about anything anymore -- and that Ren didn’t care that he wasn’t the perfect, pleasant, always smiling “good boy” he had to be on camera. He never thought he’d be accepted as he was, let alone liked or maybe even _loved._ “Sweet wines would pair well with the salty cheese and meat, don’t you think?”

Ren scrutinized the list of wines. “Do you know which of these are sweet?”

“White wines _tend_ to be sweeter, but some reds are good from what I’ve read.”

Ren tapped on an item on the list with his paw. “Port wine. Doesn’t that one go with cheese?”

“It does. I’m impressed.” Goro smirked and bit his lip. “Have you been studying for this date?”

Ren managed a passable imitation of Goro’s sing-song bragging. “ _May-be.”_

“You always challenge me,” Goro said with a contented tone. “So…which of us is going to order?”

“Together?” It would be an interesting bonding activity, if nothing else.

* * *

An anguished, throaty scream tore through the restaurant; the music continued regardless.

The source of the sound was the meek, milquetoast bartender – a simpering lackey of a shadow. Goro had leapt to his shoulder and sunk his murine teeth into the shadow’s neck, using his tail to flagellate him. His small feet kicked and dug into the creature’s ink-like skin, hitting the same spot repeatedly to agitate it. Goro took to his task with a gleeful enthusiasm, jumping from spot to spot on the shadow’s form and biting into its viscous flesh at every opportunity.

Sensing his date had could manage shaking down the shadow by himself, Ren took to the task of being the “negotiator.” He jumped onto the shadow’s head, dug his sharp toes into its scalp, and used his tail to swat at the back of his head as he spoke.

“You.”

“W-what do you want?! Ah—” Goro scratched into his neck, making the not-so-innocent target drop a bottle and hiss in pain, cutting off his speech.

Ren whipped the target with his tail. “You want to live?”

“ _Filthy rats…_ ”

“Wrong answer.” Just as Ren spoke, Goro swatted at the shadow’s neck along a vein.

“What do you want?!” The shadow’s voice trembled with fear and pain.

“Two glasses of port and a cheese plate.”

Goro stopped attacking to add his demand. “Add some beluga caviar to the plate!” Another _chomp,_ then a second, snarled request: “And better music!”

“Think you can do that?” Questioned Ren, tugging at his target’s flesh.

“Right away – just let me go!”

The beat-down that Joker and Crow had given this bartender’s friends must have been the stuff of nightmares for him – it didn’t take much “motivation” to get him to acquiesce. The two mice leapt away with a huff and scurried away, glaring from their table at the demon to ensure his compliance. Sure enough, he ambled to the back kitchen. He seemed determined to take Goro’s special request seriously as well: the lights dimmed for a more romantic setting, the classical music stopped, and soft ambient jazz took its place. Goro smiled at the change in genre, luxuriating in in the sound, but Ren seemed curious – put off.

“How’d they know to change it to jazz?” Asked the white-masked mouse.

Goro was slow to answer, bringing a paw to his face in deep thought. “I guess…Shido likes jazz too…”

Ren recognized that strained, soft response. It was the voice of a hurt, conflicted soul, craving connection to his father but hating the need. “Don’t think about it too much.”

“Just an odd thing to have picked up, I suppose.”

“Hey,” Ren soothed, “He’s the one who picked the stuffy Titanic music first.”

At that, Goro couldn’t help but lighten up. “I kind of hope this ship sinks, actually. How long should we wait before scaring the bartender again?”

“Why rush? Did you accept this date just for a free meal?”

“I thought _you_ wanted the free meal, Mr. ‘I sleep in an attic.’” Even now, they couldn’t help but bicker. It’s who they were.

“If I wanted a free meal, I’d cook it myself.” 

_Touché._ “Fair enough, but sometimes, you want something fancy.”

The Detective Prince prided himself on a curated image of luxury and refinement. While that was a ruse for acceptance, there was one piece of truth to it: Goro really did like the occasional expensive indulgence. Ren couldn’t blame him – a treat for yourself was, in some cases, a rebellion.

“Spicy is fancy,” Ren teased.

“Spicy is just _hot._ There’s no flavor to it. It burns your mouth and makes you sweat.”

“You have to search for the flavor beneath the burn.”

Goro _laughed._ “’Beneath the burn,’ psh. I don’t want to have to search for the flavor. You’re just making excuses,” he taunted back. And at that, Ren couldn’t help but laugh too.

A shaky voice interrupted their fun. With the clatter of two glasses and the gentle thud of a cheese board, the meal had at last arrived. “Y-Your dinner. Please let me know if you need anything else.”

“I need you to _get out!”_ Goro barked in a rough, acerbic tone.

Ren was a little cooler about it. “Please leave us be.”

Thankfully, the bartender was a professional. He nodded, still shivering, and ran back to safety before Goro got any ideas for how to put his tail to use.

* * *

Pungent, piquant scents wafted from the white and butter-yellow samples of cheeses. Despite not liking most dairy products himself, Ren found himself drawn to the aroma. The cheeses were the centerpiece, surrounded by cuts of salami, rolled-up slices of ham, fresh olives, crackers, cubes of fresh bread, fig spread, and small pickles. Of course, there was the beluga caviar, separate from the rest.

Goro examined the arrangement, scurrying around the wooden board to get a close look at the charcuterie and cheese samples. At one, he marveled. “They didn’t tip the brie,” he said solemnly, “This really is a high-class place.”

The thief known as Joker was good at many things, but even he knew when not to ask too many questions; Goro knew too much miscellany for him to keep up. Instead, he pivoted. “So, which cheeses are which?”

Goro hopped to the rectangular cuts of cheeses with strange, soft rinds on them; their innards looked almost gooey. “This one is Époisses,” he explained as he pointed to the yellower cheese, “and this one,” he said as he pointed with his paw to the white cheese, “is Brie.” He hopped to another soft cheese and remarked, “And this one is Chimay!”

Ren leaned toward them and sniffed. “Strong odor,” he remarked.

“Mhm.” Goro’s small feet pattered over to a large slab of white, crumbly cheese, veined with green and blue mold. “This is the Spanish cheese I was telling you about. Cabrales. It’s made from goat milk.”

“Is…is it supposed to have mold?”

“Yes!” Goro’s voice was bright with enthusiasm. “What, are you scared?”

“I’ll eat it if you eat a whole plate of curry.” Ren kept a suspicious distance from the bleu cheese.

“Wow, the great Joker’s afraid of cheese?”

“So you _admit_ you can’t handle spice?”

“Oh _quit it,”_ Goro said with a spark, “Moving on.” Goro scurried to a small pot of melted cheese. “And this must be the raclette. It’s really only good if it’s warm.”

Ren looked at the small, black container of melted cheese and reveled in the scent. “I want to try this first.”

“I’m going to try the wine,” Goro squeaked as he climbed the glass to take a sip. “You should too! This is pretty good.”

“What if I get drunk?”

“I won’t tell,” Goro lilted. “Besides, I have _much worse_ to arrest you for if I wanted.”

Ren had already found his way to a cube of bread, which he travailed to dip into the fondue. He blew on it carefully and took a cautious bite – but quickly found himself devouring it.

“Okay, sure,” Ren muttered as he scurried around for more bread and fondue.

Goro yelled from his gradually-emptying wine glass. “Hey! Save some for me!”

“Fight me for it, wino.”

* * *

The table was a mess at the end of it: wine droplets staining the white tablecloth, breadcrumbs and bits of rind smeared and scattered across the table, and brine and fluid from the caviar soaked into the cheese board. The scene spoke of two _uncouth, immature rats_ completely desecrating a fine meal meant for the best of the best.

Put simply, it was exactly what Ren had planned for the both of them.

Goro’s mouse form laid flat on the center of the table, belly to the cloth, sighing with contentment. “Ah. I take it back – this _was_ a good date spot.”

Ren hiccupped. “I need water.”

“You took _three sips,”_ Goro taunted, exasperated by his date’s tipsiness. “You’re _not_ drunk.”

“I’m small.” Ren smirked, his tone shifting. “And I wouldn’t have had any if it weren’t for you. This was criminal entrapment.”

“Like you care.”

Ren laughed. “What should we do about the bartender?”

“We’re going to turn back to humans soon. What do you say we kick his teeth in to work off the feast?”

Ren’s skin tingled with that strange magic that had become so familiar in this palace. “Sounds good…”

“Are you really going to be able to keep up with me?” Goro shifted to sit in the chair, realizing too that he’d soon be back to his regular size.

Ren glared, taking the hint and jumping from the table to his own seat. “Of course,” he snapped in a dark tone.

“I’m holding you to that…” Goro smirked. “The next time, I pick the date. Ready to go?”

“Always.”

The spell lifted like a veil of fog – infuriatingly slow, then all at once. Ren shook the tipsiness out of his system and smiled. “What’s your idea for the next one?”

“Something more competitive.”

“We’re still here,” Ren corrected. “Wanna see who can jump the bartender first?”

“Bring it on.”


End file.
